I wanted to share this poem primarily because I found it strikingly beautiful.
The woman with the alabaster jar
She knew the lines of a man’s back
as well as she knew the taste
of decanted fig-wine, or the way the spine
girdered the back under her hand;
an uneven scaffolding of flesh under fingers.
It was a gentle gift, this. Acquired slowly
in . . . → Read More: The alabaster jar
